PS 

2649 

P5 

1920 

MAIN 


IRLF 


Ofil    152 


THIS  EDITION  IS  LIMITED  TO 
THREE  HUNDRED  AND  SEVENTY-SEVEN 

COPIES 
OF  WHICH  THIS  IS 

NO.       /  ,  •?  ? 


O.  HENRYANA 


O.      HENRYANA 

SEVEN  ODDS  AND  ENDS 
POETRY  AND  SHORT  STORIES 

BY 

O.    HENRY 


GARDEN    CITY  NEW    YORK 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1920 


COPYRIGHT,    1920,    BY 
DOUBLEDAY,    PAGE    &    COMPANY 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,  INCLUDING  THAT  OF  TRANSLATION 
INTO  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES,  INCLUDING  THE  SCANDINAVIAN 


MAI/4 

* 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

For  permission  to  republish  much 
of  the  material  contained  in  this  vol 
ume,  the  publishers  are  indebted  to 
Cosmopolitan,  Everybody's  Magazine^ 
Town  Topics  and  the  Youth's  Com 
panion. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


THE  CRUCIBLE 3 

A  LUNAR  EPISODE     ....  5 

THREE  PARAGRAPHS       ...  8 

BULGER'S  FRIEND      ....  13 

A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET     .      .  34 

THE  ELUSIVE  TENDERLOIN  .      .  64 

THE  STRUGGLE  OF  THE  OUTLIERS  75 


O.  HENRYANA 


O .     HENRY 

ANA 


THE    CRUCIBLE 

HARD  ye  may  be  in  the  tumult, 
Red  to  your  battle  hilts. 
Blow  give  for  blow  in  the  foray, 
Cunningly  ride  in  the  tilts; 
But  when  the  roaring  is  ended, 

Tenderly,  unbeguiled, 
Turn  to  a  woman  a  woman's 
Heart,  and  a  child's  to  a  child. 

Test  of  the  man,  if  his  worth  be 

In  accord  with  the  ultimate  plan, 
That  he  be  not,  to  his  marring, 

Always  and  utterly  man; 
That  he  bring  out  of  the  tumult, 

Fitter  and  undefiled, 
To  a  woman  the  heart  of  a  woman, 

To  children  the  heart  of  a  child. 
3 


O.  HENRYANA 

Good  when  the  bugles  are  ranting 

It  is  to  be  iron  and  fire; 
Good  to  be  oak  in  the  foray, 

Ice  to  a  guilty  desire. 
But  when  the  battle  is  over 

(Marvel  and  wonder  the  while) 
Give  to  a  woman  a  woman's 

Heart,  and  a  child's  to  a  child. 


A    LUNAR    EPISODE 

THE  scene  was  one  of  supernat 
ural  weirdness.  Tall,  fantas 
tic  mountains  reared  their 
seamed  peaks  over  a  dreary  waste  of 
igneous  rock  and  burned-out  lava 
beds.  Deep  lakes  of  black  water 
stood  motionless  as  glass  under 
frowning,  honey-combed  crags, 
from  which  ever  and  anon  dropped 
crumbled  masses  with  a  sullen 
plunge.  Vegetation  there  was  none. 
Bitter  cold  reigned  and  ridges  of 
black  and  shapeless  rocks  cut  the 
horizon  on  all  sides.  An  extinct 
volcano  loomed  against  a  purple 
sky,  black  as  night  and  old  as  the 
world. 


O.  HENRYANA 

The  firmament  was  studded  with 
immense  stars  that  shone  with  a 
wan  and  spectral  light.  Orion's 
belt  hung  high  above. 

Aldebaran  faintly  shone  millions 
of  miles  away,  and  the  earth  gleamed 
like  a  new-risen  moon  with  a  lurid, 
blood-like  glow. 

On  a  lofty  mountain  that  hung 
toppling  above  an  ink-black  sea 
stood  a  dwelling  built  of  stone. 
From  its  solitary  window  came  a 
bright  light  that  gleamed  upon  the 
misshapen  rocks.  The  door  opened 
and  two  men  emerged  locked  in  a 
deadly  struggle. 

They  swayed  and  twisted  upon  the 
edge  of  the  precipice,  now  one  gain 
ing  the  advantage,  now  the  other. 

Strong  men  they  were,  and  stone 
rolled  from  their  feet  into  the  valley 
as  each  strove  to  overcome  the  other. 

At  length  one  prevailed.  He 
6 


A  LUNAR  EPISODE 

seized  his  opponent,  and  raising  him 
high  above  his  head,  hurled  him  into 
space. 

The  vanquished  combatant  shot 
through  the  air  like  a  stone  from  a 
catapult  in  the  direction  of  the 
luminous  earth. 

"That's  three  of  'em  this  week," 
said  the  Man  in  the  Moon  as  he  lit  a 
cigarette  and  turned  back  into  the 
house.  "Those  New  York  inter 
viewers  are  going  to  make  me  tired 
if  they  keep  this  thing  up  much 
longer." 


THREE    PARAGRAPHS 

COPY,"  yelled  the  small  boy 
at  the  door.  The  sick  woman 
lying  on  the  bed  began  to 
move  her  fingers  aimlessly  upon  the 
worn  counterpane.  Her  eyes  were 
bright  with  fever;  her  face,  once 
beautiful,  was  thin  and  pain  drawn. 
She  was  dying,  but  neither  she  nor 
the  man  who  held  her  hand  and 
wrote  on  a  paper  tablet  knew  that 
the  end  was  so  near. 

Three  paragraphs  were  lacking  to 
fill  the  column  of  humorous  matter 
that  the  foreman  had  sent  for.  The 
small  pay  it  brought  them  barely 
furnished  shelter  and  food.  Medi 
cine  was  lacking  but  the  need  for 
that  was  nearly  over. 


THREE  PARAGRAPHS 

The  woman's  mind  was  wandering; 
she  spoke  quickly  and  unceasingly, 
and  the  man  bit  his  pencil  and 
stared  at  the  pad  of  paper,  holding 
her  slim,  hot  hand. 

"Oh,  Jack;  Jack,  papa  says  no,  I 
cannot  go  with  you.  Not  love  you! 
Jack,  do  you  want  to  break  my 
heart?  Oh,  look,  look!  the  fields  are 
like  heaven,  so  filled  with  flowers. 
Why  have  you  no  ice?  I  had  ice 
when  I  was  at  home.  Can't  you 
give  me  just  a  little  piece,  my  throat 
is  burning?" 

The  humourist  wrote:  "When  a 
man  puts  a  piece  of  ice  down  a  girl's 
back  at  a  picnic,  does  he  give  her  the 
cold  shoulder?" 

The  woman  feverishly  put  back  the 
loose  masses  of  brown  hair  from  her 
burning  face. 

"Jack,  Jack,  I  don't  want  to  die! 
Who  is  that  climbing  in  the  window? 


O.  HENRYANA 

Oh,  it's  only  Jack,  and  here  is  Jack 
holding  my  hand,  too.  How  funny! 
We  are  going  to  the  river  to-night. 
The  quiet,  broad,  dark,  whispering 
river.  Hold  my  hand  tight,  Jack,  I 
can  feel  the  water  coming  in.  It  is 
so  cold.  How  queer  it  seems  to  be 
dead,  dead,  and  see  the  trees  above 
you." 

The  humourist  wrote:  "On  the 
dead  square — a  cemetery  lot." 

"Copy,  sir,"  yelled  the  small  boy 
again.  "Forms  locked  in  half  an 
hour." 

The  man  bit  his  pencil  into  splint 
ers.  The  hand  he  held  was  growing 
cooler;  surely  her  fever  must  be  leav 
ing.  She  was  singing  now,  a  little 
crooning  song  she  might  have  learned 
at  her  mother's  knee,  and  her  fingers 
had  ceased  moving. 

"They  told  me,"  she  said  weakly 
and  sadly,  "that  hardships  and  suf- 
10 


THREE  PARAGRAPHS 

fering  would  come  upon  me  for  dis 
obeying  my  parents  and  marrying 
Jack.  Oh,  dear,  my  head  aches  so 
I  can't  think.  No,  no,  the  white 
dress  with  the  lace  sleeves,  not  that 
black,  dreadful  thing!  Sailing,  sail 
ing,  sailing,  where  does  this  river  go? 
You  are  not  Jack,  you  are  too  cold 
and  stern.  What  is  that  red  mark 
on  your  brow?  Come,  sister,  let's 
make  some  daisy  chains  and  then 
hurry  home,  there  is  a  great  black 
cloud  above  us — I'll  be  better  in  the 
morning,  Jack,  if  you'll  hold  my 
hand  tight.  Jack,  I  feel  as  light  as  a 
feather — I'm  just  floating,  floating, 
right  into  the  cloud  and  I  can't  feel 
your  hand.  Oh,  I  see  her  now,  and 
there  is  the  old  love  and  tenderness 
in  her  face.  I  must  go  to  her,  Jack. 
Mother,  mother! 

The  man  wrote  quickly: 

"A  woman  generally  likes  her  hus- 
ii 


O.  HENRYANA 

band's  mother-in-law  the  best  of  all 
his  relatives." 

Then  he  sprang  to  the  door, 
dashed  the  column  of  copy  into  the 
boy's  hand,  and  moved  swiftly  to 
the  bed. 

He  put  his  arm  softly  under  the 
brown  head  that  had  suffered  so 
much,  but  it  turned  heavily  aside. 

The  fever  was  gone.  The  humour 
ist  was  alone. 


12 


BULGER'S    FRIEND 

IT  WAS  rare  sport  for  a  certain 
element  in  the  town  when  old 
Bulger  joined  the  Salvation 
Army.  Bulger  was  the  town's  odd 
"character,"  a  shiftless,  eccentric  old 
man,  and  a  natural  foe  to  social 
conventions.  He  lived  on  the  bank 
of  a  brook  that  bisected  the  town,  in  a 
wonderful  hut  of  his  own  contriving, 
made  of  scrap  lumber,  clapboards, 
pieces  of  tin,  canvas  and  corrugated 
iron. 

The  most  adventurous  boys  cir 
cled  Bulger's  residence  at  a  respect 
ful  distance.  He  was  intolerant  of 
visitors,  and  repelled  the  curious  with 
belligerent  and  gruff  inhospitality. 

13 


O.  HENRYANA 

In  return,  the  report  was  current  that 
he  was  of  unsound  mind,  something 
of  a  wizard,  and  a  miser  with  a  vast 
amount  of  gold  buried  in  or  near  his 
hut.  The  old  man  worked  at  odd 
jobs,  such  as  weeding  gardens  and 
whitewashing;  and  he  collected  old 
bones,  scrap  metal  and  bottles  from 
alleys  and  yards. 

One  rainy  night  when  the  Salva 
tion  Army  was  holding  a  slenderly 
attended  meeting  in  its  hall,  Bulger 
had  appeared  and  asked  permission 
to  join  the  ranks.  The  sergeant  in 
command  of  the  post  welcomed  the 
old  man  with  that  cheerful  lack  of 
prejudice  that  distinguishes  the 
peaceful  militants  of  his  order. 

Bulger  was  at  once  assigned  to  the 
position  of  bass  drummer,  to  his 
evident,  although  grimly  expressed, 
joy.  Possibly  the  sergeant,  who  had 
the  success  of  his  command  at  heart, 

14 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

perceived  that  it  would  be  no  mean 
token  of  successful  warfare  to  have 
the  new  recruit  thus  prominently 
displayed,  representing,  as  he  did,  if 
not  a  brand  from  the  burning,  at 
least  a  well-charred  and  sap-dried 
chunk. 

So  every  night,  when  the  Army 
marched  from  its  quarters  to  the 
street  corner  where  open-air  services 
were  held,  Bulger  stumbled  along 
with  his  bass  drum  behind  the  ser 
geant  and  the  corporal,  who  played 
"Sweet  By  and  By"  and  "Only 
an  Armor-Bearer"  in  unison  upon 
their  cornets.  And  never  before  in 
that  town  was  bass  drum  so  soundly 
whacked.  Bulger  managed  to  keep 
time  with  the  cornets  upon  his  instru 
ment,  but  his  feet  were  always  wo- 
fully  unrhythmic.  He  shuffled  and 
staggered  and  rocked  from  side  to 
side  like  a  bear. 

15 


O.  HENRYANA 

Truly,  he  was  not  pleasing  to  the 
sight.  He  was  a  bent,  ungainly  old 
man,  with  a  face  screwed  to  one  side 
and  wrinkled  like  a  dry  prune.  The 
red  shirt,  which  proclaimed  his  enlist 
ment  into  the  ranks,  was  a  misfit, 
being  the  outer  husk  of  a  leviathan 
corporal  who  had  died  some  time  be 
fore.  This  garment  hung  upon  Bul 
ger  in  folds.  His  old  brown  cap  was 
always  pulled  down  over  one  eye. 
These  and  his  wabbling  gait  gave 
him  the  appearance  of  some  great 
simian,  captured  and  imperfectly 
educated  in  pedestrian  and  musical 
manoeuvres. 

The  thoughtless  boys  and  unde 
veloped  men  who  gathered  about 
the  street  services  of  the  Army  bad 
gered  Bulger  incessantly.  They 
called  upon  him  to  give  oral  testi 
mony  to  his  conversion,  and  criti 
cized  the  technique  and  style  of  his 
16 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

drum  performance.  But  the  old 
man  paid  no  attention  whatever  to 
their  jeers.  He  rarely  spoke  to  any 
one  except  when,  on  coming  and 
going,  he  gruffly  saluted  his  com 
rades. 

The  sergeant  had  met  many  odd 
characters,  and  knew  how  to  study 
them.  He  allowed  the  recruit  to 
have  his  own  silent  way  for  a  time. 
Every  evening  Bulger  appeared  at 
the  hall,  marched  up  the  street  with 
the  squad  and  back  again.  Then 
he  would  place  his  drum  in  the 
corner  where  it  belonged,  and  sit 
upon  the  last  bench  in  the  rear  until 
the  hall  meeting  was  concluded. 

But  one  night  the  sergeant  fol 
lowed  the  old  man  outside,  and  laid 
his  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  "Com 
rade,"  he  said,  "is  it  well  with  you?" 

"Not  yet,  sergeant,"  said  Bulger. 
"  I'm  only  tryin'.  I'm  glad  you  come 

17 


O.  HENRYANA 

outside.  I've  been  wantin'  to  ask 
you:  Do  you  believe  the  Lord  would 
take  a  man  in  if  he  come  to  Him  late 
like — kind  of  a  last  resort,  you  know? 
Say  a  man  who'd  lost  everything— 
home  and  property  and  friends  and 
health.  Wouldn't  it  look  mean  to 
wait  till  then  and  try  to  come?" 

"Bless  His  name — no!"  said  the 
sergeant.  "Come  ye  that  are  heavy 
laden;  that's  what  He  says.  The 
poorer,  the  more  miserable,  the  more 
unfortunate — the  greater  His  love 
and  forgiveness." 

'Yes,  I'm  poor,"  said  Bulger. 
"Awful  poor  and  miserable.  You 
know  when  I  can  think  best,  ser 
geant?  It's  when  I'm  beating  the 
drum.  Other  times  there's  a  kind 
of  muddled  roarin' in  my  head.  The 
drum  seems  to  kind  of  soothe  and 
calm  it.  There's  a  thing  I'm  tryin'  to 
study  out,  but  I  ain't  made  it  yet." 
18 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

"Do  you  pray,  comrade ?"  asked 
the  sergeant. 

"No,  I  don't/'  said  Bulger. 
"What'd  be  the  use?  I  know  where 
the  hitch  is.  Don't  it  say  somewhere 
for  a  man  to  give  up  his  own  family 
or  friends  and  serve  the  Lord  ? " 

"If  they  stand  in  his  way;  not 
otherwise." 

"I've  got  no  family,"  continued 
the  old  man,  "nor  no  friends — but 
one.  And  that  one  is  what's  driven 
me  to  ruin." 

"Free  yourself!"  cried  the  ser 
geant.  "He  is  no  friend,  but  an 
enemy  who  stands  between  you  and 
salvation." 

"No,"  answered  Bulger,  emphat 
ically,  "no  enemy.  The  best  friend 
I  ever  had." 

"But  you  say  he's  driven  you  to 
ruin!" 

The    old    man    chuckled    dryly: 
19 


O.  HENRYANA 

"And  keeps  me  in  rags  and  livin' 
on  scraps  and  sleepin'  like  a  dog 
in  a  patched-up  kennel.  And  yet  I 
never  had  a  better  friend.  You 
don't  understand,  sergeant.  You  lose 
all  your  friends  but  the  best  one, 
and  then  you'll  know  how  to  hold 
on  to  the  last  one." 

"Do  you  drink,  comrade?"  asked 
the  sergeant. 

"Not  a  drop  in  twenty  years," 
Bulger  replied.  The  sergeant  was 
puzzled. 

"If  this  friend  stands  between  you 
and  your  soul's  peace,  give  him  up," 
was  all  he  could  find  to  say. 

"I  can't — now,"  said  the  old  man, 
dropping  into  a  fretful  whine.  "But 
you  just  let  me  keep  on  beating  the 
drum,  sergeant,  and  maybe  I  will 
some  time.  I'm  a-tryin'.  Some 
times  I  come  so  near  thinkin'  it  out 
that  a  dozen  more  licks  on  the  drum 


20 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

would  settle  it.  I  get  mighty  nigh 
to  the  point,  and  then  I  have  to  quit. 
You'll  give  me  more  time,  won't 
you,  sergeant?" 

"All  you  want,  and  God  bless  you, 
comrade.  Pound  away  until  you 
hit  the  right  note." 

Afterward  the  sergeant  would 
often  call  to  Bulger:  "Time,  com 
rade  !  Knocked  that  friend  of  yours 
out  yet?"  The  answer  was  always 
unsatisfactory. 

One  night  at  a  street  corner  the 
sergeant  prayed  loudly  that  a  certain 
struggling  comrade  might  be  parted 
from  an  enemy  who  was  leading  him 
astray  under  the  guise  of  friendship. 
Bulger,  in  sudden  and  plainly  evident 
alarm,  immediately  turned  his  drum 
over  to  a  fellow  volunteer,  and 
shuffled  rapidly  away  down  the 
street.  The  next  night  he  was 
back  again  at  his  post,  without  any 

21 


O.  HENRYANA 

explanation  of  his  strange  be 
haviour. 

The  sergeant  wondered  what  it  all 
meant,  and  took  occasion  to  question 
the  old  man  more  closely  as  to  the 
influence  that  was  retarding  the 
peace  his  soul  seemed  to  crave.  But 
Bulger  carefully  avoided  particular 
izing. 

"It's  my  own  fight/'  he  said.  "I've 
got  to  think  it  out  myself.  Nobody 
else  don't  understand." 

The  winter  of  1 892  was  a  memor 
able  one  in  the  South.  The  cold 
was  almost  unprecedented,  and  snow 
fell  many  inches  deep  where  it  had 
rarely  whitened  the  ground  before. 
Much  suffering  resulted  among  the 
poor,  who  had  not  anticipated  the 
rigorous  season.  The  little  squad 
of  Salvationists  found  more  distress 
then  they  could  relieve. 

Charity  in  that  town,  while  swift 

22 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

and  liberal,  lacked  organization. 
Want,  in  that  balmy  and  productive 
climate,  existed  only  in  sporadic 
cases,  and  these  were  nearly  always 
quietly  relieved  by  generous  neigh 
bours.  But  when  some  sudden  dis 
astrous  onslaught  of  the  elements- 
storm,  fire  or  flood — occurred,  the 
impoverished  sufferers  were  often 
too  slowly  aided  because  system 
was  lacking,  and  because  charity  was 
called  upon  too  seldom  to  become 
a  habit.  At  such  times  the  Salva 
tion  Army  was  very  useful.  Its 
soldiers  went  down  into  alleys  and 
byways  to  rescue  those  who,  unused 
to  extreme  want,  had  never  learned 
to  beg. 

At  the  end  of  three  weeks  of  hard 
freezing  a  level  foot  of  snow  fell. 
Hunger  and  cold  struck  the  improvi 
dent,  and  a  hundred  women,  children 
and  old  men  were  gathered  into  the 


O.  HENRYANA 

Army's  quarters  to  be  warmed  and 
fed.  Each  day  the  blue-uniformed 
soldiers  slipped  in  and  out  of  the 
stores  and  offices  of  the  town,  gather 
ing  pennies  and  dimes  and  quarters 
to  buy  food  for  the  starving.  And 
in  and  out  of  private  houses  the 
Salvationists  went  with  baskets  of 
food  and  clothing,  while  day  by  day 
the  mercury  still  crouched  among 
the  tens  and  twenties. 

Alas !  business,  that  scapegoat,  was 
dull.  The  dimes  and  quarters  came 
more  reluctantly  from  tills  that  jin 
gled  not  when  they  were  opened. 
Yet  in  the  big  hall  of  the  Army  the 
stove  was  kept  red-hot,  and  upon 
the  long  table,  set  in  the  rear,  could 
always  be  found  at  least  coffee  and 
bread  and  cheese.  The  sergeant  and 
the  squad  fought  valiantly.  At  last 
the  money  on  hand  was  all  gone,  and 
the  daily  collections  were  diminished 

24 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

to  a  variable  sum,  inadequate  to  the 
needs  of  the  dependents  of  the  Army. 

Christmas  was  near  at  hand. 
There  were  fifty  children  in  the  hall, 
and  many  more  outside,  to  whom 
that  season  brought  no  joy  beyond 
what  was  brought  by  the  Army. 
None  of  these  little  pensioners  had 
thus  far  lacked  necessary  comforts, 
and  they  had  already  begun  to 
chatter  of  the  tree — that  one  bright 
vision  in  the  sober  monotony  of  the 
year.  Never  since  the  Army  first 
came  had  it  failed  to  provide  a  tree 
and  gifts  for  the  children. 

The  sergeant  was  troubled.  He 
knew  that  an  announcement  of  "no 
tree"  would  grieve  the  hearts  under 
those  thin  cotton  dresses  and  ragged 
jackets  more  than  would  stress  of 
storm  or  scanty  diet;  and  yet  there 
was  not  money  enough  to  meet  the 
daily  demands  for  food  and  fuel. 

25 


O.  HENRYANA 

On  the  night  of  December  the 
2oth  the  sergeant  decided  to  an 
nounce  that  there  could  be  no 
Christmas  tree:  it  seemed  unfair  to 
allow  the  waxing  anticipation  of 
the  children  to  reach  too  great  a 
height. 

The  evening  was  colder,  and  the 
still  deep  snow  was  made  deeper 
by  another  heavy  fall  swept  upon 
the  wings  of  a  fierce  and  shrill- 
voiced  northern  gale.  The  sergeant, 
with  sodden  boots  and  reddened 
countenance,  entered  the  hall  at 
nightfall,  and  removed  his  thread 
bare  overcoat.  Soon  afterward  the 
rest  of  the  faithful  squad  drifted 
in,  the  women  heavily  shawled,  the 
men  stamping  their  snow-crusted 
feet  loudly  upon  the  steep  stairs. 
After  the  slender  supper  of  cold 
meat,  beans,  bread,  and  coffee  had 
been  finished  all  joined  in  a  short 
26 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

service  of  song  and  prayer,  according 
to  their  daily  habit. 

Far  back  in  the  shadow  sat  Bulger. 
For  weeks  his  ears  had  been  deprived 
of  that  aid  to  thought,  the  booming 
of  the  big  bass  drum.  His  wrinkled 
face  wore  an  expression  of  gloomy 
perplexity.  The  Army  had  been  too 
busy  for  the  regular  services  and 
parades.  The  silent  drum,  the  ban 
ners,  and  the  cornets  were  stored  in  a 
little  room  at  the  top  of  the  stairway. 

Bulger  came  to  the  hall  every  night 
and  ate  supper  with  the  others.  In 
such  weather  work  of  the  kind  that 
the  old  man  usually  did  was  not  to 
be  had,  and  he  was  bidden  to  share 
the  benefits  conferred  upon  the  other 
unfortunates.  He  always  left  early, 
and  it  was  surmised  that  he  passed 
the  nights  in  his  patchwork  hut,  that 
structure  being  waterproof  and 
weathertight  beyond  the  promise 
27 


O.  HENRYANA 

of  its  outward  appearance.  Of  late 
the  sergeant  had  had  no  time  to  be 
stow  upon  the  old  man. 

At  seven  o'clock  the  sergeant  stood 
up  and  rapped  upon  the  table  with 
a  lump  of  coal.  When  the  room  be 
came  still  he  began  his  talk,  that 
rambled  off  into  a  halting  discourse 
quite  unlike  his  usual  positive  and 
direct  speeches.  The  children  had 
gathered  about  their  friend  in  a  rag 
ged,  wriggling,  and  wide-a-wake  circle . 
Most  of  them  had  seen  that  fresh, 
ruddy  countenance  of  his  emerge,  at 
the  twelve-stroke  of  a  night  of  splen 
dour,  from  the  whiskered  mask  of  a 
magnificent  Santa  Claus.  They 
knew  now  that  he  was  going  to  speak 
of  the  Christmas  tree. 

They  tiptoed  and  listened,  flushed 
with  a  hopeful  and  eager  awe.    The 
sergeant  saw  it,  frowned,  and  swal 
lowed  hard.     Continuing ,  he  planted 
28 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

the  sting  of  disappointment  in  each 
expectant  little  bosom,  and  watched 
the  light  fade  from  their  eyes . 

There  was  to  be  no  tree.  Renuncia 
tion  was  no  new  thing  to  them;  they 
had  been  born  to  it.  Still  a  few  little 
ones  in  whom  hope  died  hard  sobbed 
aloud,  and  wan,  wretched  mothers 
tried  to  hush  and  console  them.  A 
kind  of  voiceless  wail  went  among 
them,  scarcely  a  protest,  rather  the 
ghost  of  a  lament  for  the  childhood's 
pleasures  they  had  never  known. 
The  sergeant  sat  down  and  figured 
cheerlessly  with  the  stump  of  a  pencil 
upon  the  blank  border  of  a  news 
paper. 

Bulger  rose  and  shuffled  out  of  the 
room  without  ceremony,  as  was  his 
custom.  He  was  heard  fumbling  in 
the  little  room  in  the  hallway,  and 
suddenly  a  thunderous  roar  broke 
out,  filling  the  whole  building  with 
29 


O.  HENRYANA 

its  booming  din.  The  sergeant 
started,  and  then  laughed  as  if  his 
nerves  welcomed  the  diversion. 

"It's  only  Comrade  Bulger/'  he 
said,  "doing  a  little  thinking  in  his 
own  quiet  way." 

The  norther  rattled  the  windows 
and  shrieked  around  the  corners. 
The  sergeant  heaped  more  coal  into 
the  stove.  The  increase  of  that 
cutting  wind  bore  the  cold  promise 
of  days,  perhaps  weeks,  of  hard  times 
to  come.  The  children  were  slowly 
recovering  the  sad  philosophy  out 
of  which  the  deceptive  hope  of  one 
bright  day  had  enticed  them.  The 
women  were  arranging  things  for 
the  night;  preparing  to  draw  the 
long  curtain  across  the  width  of  the 
hall,  separating  the  children's  quar 
ters  and  theirs  from  those  of  the 
men. 

About  eight  o'clock  the  sergeant 

30 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

had  seen  that  all  was  shipshape;  and 
was  wrapping  his  woolen  comforter 
around  his  neck,  ready  for  his  cold 
journey  homeward,  when  footsteps 
were  heard  upon  the  stairway.  The 
door  opened,  and  Bulger  came  in 
covered  with  snow  like  Santa  Claus, 
and  as  red  of  face,  but  otherwise 
much  unlike  the  jolly  Christmas 
saint. 

The  old  man  shambled  down  the 
hall  to  where  the  sergeant  stood, 
drew  a  wet,  earth-soiled  bag  from 
under  his  coat,  and  laid  it  upon  the 
table.  "Open  it,"  he  said,  and  mo 
tioned  to  the  sergeant. 

That  cheery  official  obeyed  with 
an  indulgent  smile.  He  seized  the 
bottom  of  the  bag,  turned  it  up,  and 
stood,  with  his  smile  turned  to  a  gape 
of  amazement,  gazing  at  a  heap  of 
gold  and  silver  coin  that  rolled  upon 
the  table. 


O.  HENRYANA 

"Count  it,"  said  Bulger. 

The  jingling  of  the  money  and 
wonder  at  its  source  had  produced  a 
profound  silence  in  the  room.  For  a 
time  nothing  could  be  heard  but 
the  howling  of  the  wind  and  the 
chink  of  the  coins  as  the  sergeant 
slowly  laid  them  in  little  separate 
piles. 

"Six  hundred/*  said  the  sergeant, 
and  stopped  to  clear  his  throat,  "six 
hundred  and  twenty-three  dollars 
and  eighty-five  cents!" 

"  Eighty,"  said  Bulger.  "  Mistake 
of  five  cents.  I've  thought  it  out  at 
last,  sergeant,  and  Fve  give  up  that 
friend  I  told  you  about.  That's 
him — dollars  and  cents.  The  boys 
was  right  when  they  said  I  was  a 
miser.  Take  it,  sergeant,  and  spend 
it  the  best  way  for  them  that  needs 
it,  not  forgettin'  a  tree  for  the  young 
'uns,  and— 


BULGER'S  FRIEND 

"Hallelujah!"  cried  the  sergeant. 

"And  a  new  bass  drum/'  con 
cluded  Bulger. 

And  then  the  sergeant  made  an 
other  speech. 


33 


A    PROFESSIONAL 
SECRET 

THE   STORY  OF  A  MAID   MADE    OVER 

DR.  SATTERFIELD  PRINCE 
physician  to  the  leisure  class, 
looked  at  his  watch.  It  in 
dicated  five  minutes  to  twelve.  At 
the  stroke  of  the  hour  would  expire 
the  morning  term  set  apart  for  the  re 
ception  of  his  patients  in  his  handsome 
office  apartments.  And  then  the 
young  woman  attendant  ushered  in 
from  the  waiting-room  the  last  unit  of 
the  wealthy  and  fashionable  gathering 
that  had  come  to  patronize  his  skill. 

Dr.  Prince  turned,  his  watch  still 
in  hand,  his  manner  courteous,  but 
34 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

seeming  to  invite  promptness  and 
brevity  in  the  interview.  The  last 
patient  was  a  middle-aged  lady, 
richly  dressed,  with  an  amiable  and 
placid  face.  When  she  spoke  her 
voice  revealed  the  drawling,  musical 
slur  and  intonation  of  the  South. 
She  had  come,  she  leisurely  explained, 
to  bespeak  the  services  of  Dr.  Prince 
in  the  case  of  her  daughter,  who  was 
possessed  of  a  most  mysterious  afflic 
tion.  And  then,  femininely,  she  pro 
ceeded  to  exhaustively  diagnose  the 
affliction,  informing  the  physician 
with  a  calm  certitude  of  its  origin 
and  nature. 

The  diagnosis  advanced  by  the 
lady — Mrs.  Galloway  Rankin — was 
one  so  marvelously  strange  and  sing 
ular  in  its  conception  that  Dr.  Prince, 
accustomed  as  he  was  to  the  conceits 
and  vagaries  of  wealthy  malingerers, 
was  actually  dumfounded.  The  fol- 

35 


O.  HENRYANA 

lowing  is  the  matter  of  Mrs.  Ran- 
kin's    statement,    briefly    reported: 
She — Mrs.   Rankin — was  of  an  old 
Kentucky   family,    the   Bealls.     Be 
tween   the   Bealls   and   another  his 
toric  house — the  Rankins — had  been 
waged  for  nearly  a  century  one  of 
the    fiercest    and    most    sanguinary 
feuds  within  the  history  of  the  State. 
Each  generation  had  kept  alive  both 
the  hate  and  the  warfare,  until  at 
length  it  was  said  that  Nature  began 
to  take  cognizance  of  the  sentiment 
and  Bealls  and  Rankins  were  born 
upon   earth   as   antagonistic   toward 
each   other   as   cats   and   dogs.     So, 
for    four   generations    the    war    had 
waged,    and    the    mountains    were 
dotted    with    tombstones    of    both 
families.  At  last,  for  lack  of  fuel  to 
feed  upon,  the  feud  expired  with  only 
one  direct  descendant  of  the  Bealls 
and  one  of  the  Rankins  remaining — 

36 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

Evalina  Beall,  aged  nineteen,  and 
Galloway  Rankin,  aged  twenty-five. 
The  last  mortal  shot  in  the  feud 
was  fired  by  Cupid.  The  two  sur 
vivors  met,  became  immediately  and 
mutually  enamoured,  and  a  miracle 
transpired  on  Kentucky  soil — a  Ran- 
kin  wedded  a  Beall. 

Interposed,  and  irrelevant  to  the 
story,  was  the  information  that  coal 
mines  had  been  discovered  later  on 
the  Rankin  lands,  and  now  the  Gal 
loway  Rankins  were  to  be  computed 
among  the  millionaries. 

All  that  was  long  enough  ago  for 

there  to  be  now  a  daughter,  twenty 

years  of  age — Miss  Annabel  Rankin 

—for  whose  relief  the  services  of  Dr. 

Prince  was  petitioned. 

Then  followed,  in  Mrs.  Rankin's 
statement,  a  description  of  the  mys 
terious,  though  by  her  readily  ac 
counted  for,  affliction. 

37 


O.  HENRYANA 

It  seemed  that  there  was  a  peculiar 
difficulty  in  the  young  lady's  powers 
of  locomotion.  In  walking,  a  process 
requiring  a  coordination  and  unan 
imity  of  the  functions — Dr.  Prince, 
said  Mrs.  Rankin,  would  understand 
and  admit  the  non-existence  of  a 
necessity  for  anatomical  specifica 
tion — there  persisted  a  stubborn 
opposition,  a  most  contrary  and  coun 
teracting  antagonism.  In  those  suc 
cessively  progressive  and  generally 
unconsciously  automatic  movements 
necessary  to  proper  locomotion,  there 
was  a  violent  lack  of  harmony  and 
mutuality.  To  give  an  instance 
cited  by  Mrs.  Rankin — if  Miss  Anna 
bel  desired  to  ascend  a  stairway,  one 
foot  would  be  easily  advanced  to 
the  step  above,  but  instead  of  aiding 
and  abetting  its  fellow,  the  other 
would  at  once  proceed  to  start  down 
stairs.  By  a  strong  physical  and 

38 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

mental  effort  the  young  lady  could 
walk  fairly  well  for  a  short  distance 
but  suddenly  the  rebellious  entities 
would  become  uncontrollable,  and 
she  would  be  compelled  to  turn  un 
desirable  corners,  to  enter  impossible 
doorways,  to  dance,  shuffle,  side 
step  and  perform  other  undignified 
and  distressing  evolutions. 

After  setting  forth  these  lamenta 
ble  symptoms,  Mrs.  Rankin  em 
phatically  asserted  her  belief  that  the 
affliction  was  the  result  of  heredity— 
of  the  union  between  the  naturally 
opposing  and  contrary  Beall  and 
Rankin  elements.  She  believed  that 
the  inherited  spirit  of  the  ancient 
feud  had  taken  on  physical  mani 
festations,  exhibiting  them  in  the 
person  of  the  unfortunate  outcome 
of  the  union  of  opposites.  That  in 
Miss  Annabel  Rankin  was  warring 
the  imperishable  antipathy  of  the 

39 


O.  HENRYANA 

two  families.  In  other  words,  that 
one  of  Miss  Rankin's — that  is  to 
say,  that  when  Miss  Rankin  took  a 
step  it  was  a  Beall  step,  and  the 
next  one  was  dominated  by  the  be 
queathed  opposition  of  the  Rankins. 

Doctor  Prince  received  the  com 
munication  with  his  usual  grave,  pro 
fessional  attention,  and  promised  to 
call  the  next  day  at  ten  to  inspect 
the  patient. 

Promptly  at  the  hour  his  electric 
runabout  turned  into  the  line  of 
stylish  autos  and  hansoms  that  wait 
along  the  pavements  before  the  most 
expensive  hostelry  on  American  soil. 

When  Miss  Annabel  Rankin  en 
tered  the  reception  parlour  of  their 
choice  suite  of  rooms  Doctor  Prince 
gave  a  little  blink  of  surprise  through 
his  brilliantly  polished  nose  glasses. 
The  glow  of  perfect  health  and  the 
contour  of  perfect  beauty  were 
40 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

visible  in  the  face  and  form  of  the 
young  lady.  But  admiration  gave 
way  to  sympathy  when  he  saw  her 
walk.  She  entered  at  a  little  run, 
swayed,  stepped  off  helplessly  at  a 
sharp  tangent,  advanced,  marked 
time,  backed  off,  recovered  and 
sidled  with  a  manoeuvring  rush  to  a 
couch,  where  she  rested,  with  a  look 
of  serious  melancholy  upon  her  hand 
some  face. 

Dr.  Prince  proceeded  with  his  in 
terrogatories  in  the  delicate,  reassur 
ing,  gentlemanly  manner  that  had 
brought  him  so  many  patrons  who 
placed  a  value  upon  those  amenities. 
Miss  Annabel  answered  frankly  and 
sensibly,  indeed,  for  one  of  her  years. 
The  feud  theory  of  Mrs.  Rankin  was 
freely  discussed.  The  daughter  also 
believed  in  it. 

Soon  the  physician  departed,  prom 
ising  to  call  again  and  administer 

41 


O.  HENRYANA 

treatment.  Then  he  buzzed  down 
the  Avenue  and  four  doors  on  an 
asphalted  side  street  to  the  office 
of  Dr.  Grumbleton  Myers,  the  great 
specialist  in  locomotor  ataxia  and 
nerve  ailments.  The  two  distin 
guished  physicians  shut  themselves 
in  a  private  office,  and  the  great 
Myers  dragged  forth  a  decanter  of 
sherry  and  a  box  of  Havanas.  When 
the  consultation  was  over  both  shook 
their  heads. 

"Fact  is/'  summed  up  Myers, 
"we  don't  know  anything  about  any 
thing.  I'd  say  treat  symptoms  now 
until  something  turns  up;  but  there 
are  no  symptoms." 

"The  feud  diagnosis,  then?"  sug 
gested  Doctor  Prince,  archly,  ridding 
his  cigar  of  its  ash. 

"It's  an  interesting  case,"  said 
the  specialist,  noncommittally. 

"I  say,  Prince,"  called  Myers,  as 
42 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

his  caller  was  leaving.  "Er — some 
times,  you  know,  children  that  fight 
and  quarrel  are  shut  in  separate 
rooms.  Doesn't  it  seem  a  pity, 
now,  that  bloomers  aren't  in  fashion? 
By  separ— 

"But  they  aren't/'  smiled  Doctor 
Prince,  "and  we  must  be  fashionable, 
at  any  rate." 

Doctor  Prince  burned  midnight 
oil — or  its  equivalent,  a  patent,  elec 
tric,  soft-shaded,  midnight  incan 
descent,  over  his  case.  With  such 
little  success  did  his  light  shine  that 
he  was  forced  to  make  a  little  speech 
to  the  Rankins  full  of  scientific  terms 
—a  thing  he  conscientiously  avoided 
with  his  patients — which  shows  that 
he  was  driven  to  expedient.  At  last 
he  was  reduced  to  suggest  treatment 
by  hypnotism. 

Being  crowded  further,  he  advised 
it,  and  appeared  another  day  with 

43 


O.  HENRYANA 

Professor  Adami,  the  most  reputable 
and  non-advertising  one  he  could  find 
among  that  school  of  practitioners. 

Miss  Annabel,  gentle  and  melan 
choly,  fell  an  easy  victim — or,  I 
should  say,  subject — to  the  profes 
sor's  influence.  Previously  instructed 
by  Doctor  Prince  in  the  nature  of 
the  malady  he  was  about  to  combat, 
the  dealer  in  mental  drugs  proceeded 
to  offer  "  suggestion  "  (in  the  language 
of  his  school)  to  the  afflicted  and  un 
conscious  young  lady,  impressing 
her  mind  with  the  conviction  that 
her  affliction  was  moonshine  and  her 
perambulatory  powers  without  im 
pairment. 

When  the  spell  was  removed  Miss 
Rankin  sat  up,  looking  a  little  be 
wildered  at  first,  and  then  rose  to  her 
feet,  walking  straight  across  the 
room  with  the  grace,  the  sureness 
and  the  ease  of  a  Diana,  a  Leslie- 

44 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

Carter,  or  a  Vassar  basketball  cham 
pion.  Miss  Annabel's  sad  face  was 
now  lit  with  hope  and  joy.  Mrs. 
Rankin  of  Southern  susceptibility 
wept  a  little,  delightedly,  upon  a 
minute  lace  handkerchief.  Miss 
Annabel  continued  to  walk  about 
firmly  and  accurately,  in  absolute 
control  of  the  machinery  necessary 
for  her  so  to  do.  Doctor  Prince 
quietly  congratulated  Professor 
Adami,  and  then  stepped  forward, 
smilingly  rubbing  his  nose  glasses 
with  an  air.  His  position  enabled 
him  to  overshadow  the  hypnotizer 
who,  contented  to  occupy  the  back 
ground  temporarily,  was  busy  esti 
mating  in  his  mind  with  how  large  a 
bill  for  services  he  would  dare  to 
embellish  the  occasion  when  he 
should  come  to  the  front. 

Amid  repeated  expressions  of  gra 
titude,  the  two  professional   gentle- 

45 


O.  HENRYANA 

men  made  their  adieus,  a  little  elated 
at  the  success  of  the  treatment  which, 
with  one  of  them,  had  been  an  experi 
ment,  with  the  other  an  exhibition. 

As  the  door  closed  behind  them, 
Miss  Annabel,  her  usually  serious 
and  pensive  temper  somewhat  en 
livened  by  the  occasion,  sat  at  the 
piano  and  dashed  into  a  stirring 
march.  Outside,  the  two  men  mov 
ing  toward  the  elevator  heard  a 
scream  of  alarm  from  her  and 
hastened  back.  They  found  her  on 
the  piano-stool,  with  one  hand  still 
pressing  the  keys.  The  other  arm  was 
extended  rigidly  to  its  full  length  be 
hind  her,  its  fingers  tightly  clenched 
into  a  pink  and  pretty  little  fist. 
Her  mother  was  bending  over  her, 
joining  in  the  alarm  and  surprise. 
Miss  Rankin  rose  from  the  stool,  now 
quiet,  but  again  depressed  and  sad. 

"I    don't    know    what    did    it," 
46 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

she  said,  plaintively;  "I  began  to 
play  and  that  arm  shot  back.  It 
wouldn't  stay  near  the  piano  while 
the  other  one  was  there." 

A  ping-pong  table  stood  in  the 
room. 

"A  little  game,  Miss  Rankin,"  cried 
Professor  Adami,  gayly,  trying  to 
feel  his  way. 

They  played.  With  the  racquet 
in  the  refractory  arm,  Miss  Annabel 
played  in  fine  style.  Her  control 
of  it  was  perfect.  The  professor 
laid  down  his  racquet. 

"  Ah !  a  button  is  loose  on  my  coat," 
said  he.  "  Such  is  the  fate  of  sorrow 
ful  bachelors.  A  needle  and  thread, 
now,  Miss  Rankin?" 

A  little  surprised,  but  smiling 
acquiescence,  Annabel  brought  the 
articles  from  another  room. 

"Now  thread  the  needle,  if  you 
please,"  said  Professor  Adami. 

47 


O.  HENRYANA 

Annabel  bit  off  two  feet  of  the 
black  silk.  When  she  came  to  thread 
the  needle  the  secret  was  out.  As 
the  hand  presenting  the  thread  ap 
proached  the  other  holding  the  needle 
that  arm  was  jerked  violently  away. 
Doctor  Prince  was  first  to  reduce 
the  painful  discovery  to  words. 

"Dear  Miss  and  Mrs.  Rankin," 
he  said,  in  his  most  musical 
consolation-baritone,  "we  have  been 
only  partially  successful.  The  afflic 
tion,  Miss  Rankin,  has  passed  from 
your — that  is,  the  affliction  is  now 
in  your  arms." 

"Oh,  dear!"  sighed  Annabel,  "I've 
a  Beall  arm  and  a  Rankin  arm,  then. 
Well,  I  can  use  one  hand  at  a  time, 
anyway.  People  won't  notice  it  as 
they  did  before.  Oh,  what  an  an 
noyance  those  feuds  were,  to  be  sure ! 
It  seems  to  me  they  should  make  laws 
against  them." 

48 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

Doctor  Prince  looked  inquiringly 
at  Professor  Adami.  That  gentle 
man  shook  his  head.  "Another  day/' 
he  said.  "I  prefer  not  to  establish 
the  condition  at  a  lesser  interval 
than  two  or  three  days." 

So,  three  days  afterward  they  re 
turned,  and  the  professor  replaced 
Miss  Rankin  under  control.  This 
time  there  was,  apparently,  perfect 
success.  She  came  forth  from  the 
trance,  and  with  full  muscular  powers. 
She  walked  the  floor  with  a  sure, 
rythmic  step.  She  played  several 
difficult  selections  upon  the  piano, 
the  hands  and  arms  moving  with 
propriety  and  with  allied  ease. 
Miss  Rankin  seemed  at  last  to  possess 
a  perfectly  well-ordered  physical  be 
ing  as  well  as  a  very  grateful  mental 
one. 

A  week  afterward  there  wafted 
into  Doctor  Prince's  office  a  youth, 

49 


O.  HENRYANA 

generously  gilded.     The  hallmarks  of 
society  were  deeply  writ  upon  him. 

"I'm  Ashburton,"  he  explained; 
"T.  Ripley  Ashburton,  you  know. 
I'm  engaged  to  Miss  Rankin.  I 
understand  you've  been  training  her 
for  some  breaks  in  her  gaits — ' 
T.  Ripley  Ashburton  caught  himself. 
"Didn't  mean  that,  you  know — 
slipped  out — been  loafing  around 
stables  quite  a  lot.  I  say.  Doctor 
Prince,  I  want  you  to  tell  me.  Can 
didly,  you  know.  I'm  awful  spoons 
on  Miss  Rankin.  We're  to  be  mar 
ried  in  the  Fall.  You  might  con 
sider  me  one  of  the  family,  you  know. 
They  told  me  about  the  treatment 
you  gave  her  with  the — er — medium 
fellow.  That  set  her  up  wonder 
fully,  I  assure  you.  She  goes  freely 
now,  and  handles  her  fore — I  mean 
you  know,  she's  over  all  that  old 
trouble.  But  there's  something  else 

5° 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

started  up  that's  making  the  track 
pretty  heavy;  so  I  called,  don't  you 
understand." 

"I  had  not  been  advised/'  said 
Doctor  Prince,  "of  any  recurrence 
of  Miss  Rankin's  indisposition." 

T.  Ripley  Ashburton  produced  a 
silver  cigarette-case  and  contem 
plated  it  tenderly.  Receiving  no  en 
couragement,  he  replaced  it  in  his 
pocket  with  a  sigh. 

"Not  a  recurrence,"  he  said, 
thoughtfully,  "but  something  differ 
ent.  Possibly  I'm  the  only  one  in  a 
position  to  know.  Hate  to  discuss 
it — reveal  Cupid's  secrets,  you  know 
—such  a  jolly  low  thing  to  do — but 
suppose  the  occasion  justifies  it." 

"If  you  possess  any  information 
or  have  observed  anything,"  said 
Doctor  Prince,  judicially,  "through 
which  Miss  Rankin's  condition  might 
be  benefited,  it  is  your  duty,  of 


O.  HENRYANA 

course,  to  apply  it  in  her  behalf.  I 
need  hardly  remind  you  that  such 
disclosures  are  held  as  secrets  on 
professional  honour." 

"I  believe  I  mentioned/'  said  Mr. 
Ashburton,  his  fingers  still  hovering 
around  the  pocket  containing  his 
cigarette  case,  "that  Miss  Rankin 
and  I  are  ever  so  sweet  upon  each 
other.  She's  a  jolly,  swell  girl,  if 
she  did  come  from  the  Kentucky 
mountains.  Lately  she's  acted  awful 
queerly.  She's  awful  affectionate 
one  minute,  and  the  next  she  turns 
me  down  like  a  perfect  stranger. 
Last  night  I  called  at  the  hotel,  and 
she  met  me  at  the  door  of  their 
rooms.  Nobody  was  in  sight,  and 
she  gave  me  an  awful  nice  kiss — er 
—engaged,  you  know,  Doctor  Prince 
—and  then  she  fired  away  and  gave 
me  an  awful  hard  slap  in  the  face. 
'I  hate  the  sight  of  you,'  she  said; 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

'how  dare  you  take  the  liberty  I" 
Mr.  Ashburton  drew  an  envelope 
from  his  pocket  and  extracted  from 
it  a  sheet  of  note  paper  of  a  delicate 
heliotrope  tint.  :<You  might  read 
this  note,  you  know.  Can't  say  if  it's 
a  medical  case,  'pon  my  honour,  but 
Fm  awfully  queered,  don't  you  un 
derstand." 

Doctor  Prince  read  the  following 
lines: 

MY  DEAREST  RIPLEY: 

Do  come  around  this  evening — there's  a 
dear  boy — and  take  me  out  somewhere. 
Mamma  has  a  headache,  and  says  she'll 
be  glad  to  be  rid  of  both  of  us  for  a  while. 
'Twas  so  sweet  of  you  to  send  those  pond 
lilies — they're  just  what  I  wanted  for  the 
east  windows.  You  darling  boy — you're  so 
thoughtful  and  good — I'm  sure  you're  worth 

all  the  love  of 

Your  very  own 

ANNABEL. 

P.  S. — On  second  thoughts,  I  will  ask 
you  not  to  call  this  evening,  as  I  shall  be 

53 


O.  HENRYANA 

otherwise  engaged.  Perhaps  it  has  never 
occurred  to  you  that  there  may  be  two 
opinions  about  the  vast  pleasure  you  seem 
to  think  your  society  affords  others.  Clothes 
and  the  small  talk  of  club-houses  and  race 
tracks  hardly  ever  succeed  in  making  a  man 
without  other  accessories. 

Very  respectfully, 
ANNABEL  RANKIN. 


Being  deprived  of  the  aid  of  his 
consolation  cylinders,  T.  Ripley  Ash- 
burton  sat,  gloomy,  revolving  things 
in  his  mind. 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  Doctor  Prince, 
aloud,  but  addressing  the  exclama 
tion  to  himself;  "driven  from  the 
arms  to  the  heart!"  He  perceived 
that  the  mysterious  hereditary  con 
trariety  had,  indeed,  taken  up  its 
lodging  in  that  tender  organ  of  the 
afflicted  maiden. 

The  gilded  youth  was  dismissed, 
with  the  promise  that  Doctor  Prince 

54 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

would  make  a  professional  call  upon 
Miss  Rankin.  He  did  so  soon,  in 
company  with  Professor  Adami,  after 
they  had  discussed  the  strange  course 
taken  by  this  annoying  heritage  of 
the  Bealls  and  Rankins.  This  time, 
as  the  location  of  the  disorder  re 
quired  that  the  subject  be  approached 
with  ingenuity,  some  diplomacy  was 
exercised  before  the  young  lady  could 
be  induced  to  submit  herself  to  the 
professor's  art.  But  evidently  she 
did  so,  and  emerged  from  the  trance 
as  usual  without  a  trace  of  unpleas 
ant  effect. 

With  much  interest  and  some  anx 
iety  Doctor  Prince  passed  several 
days  awaiting  the  report  of  Mr. 
Ashburton,  who,  indeed,  of  all  others 
would  have  to  be  depended  upon  to 
observe  improvements,  if  any  had 
occurred.  One  morning  that  youth 
dropped  in,  jubilant. 

55 


O.  HENRYANA 

"It's  all  right,  you  know/'  he  de 
clared,  cheerfully.  "Miss  Rankin's 
herself  again.  She's  as  sweet  as 
cream,  and  the  trouble's  all  off. 
Never  a  cross  word  or  look.  I'm 
her  ducky,  all  right.  She  won't 
believe  what  I  tell  her  about  the  way 
she  used  to  treat  me.  Intimates  I 
make  up  the  stories.  But  it's  all 
right  now — everything's  running  on 
rubber  tires.  Awfully  obliged  to 
you  and  the  old  boy — er — the  me 
dium,  you  know.  And  I  say,  now, 
Doctor  Prince,  there's  a  wonderful 
improvement  in  Miss  Rankin  in 
every  way.  She  used  to  be  rather 
stiff,  don't  you  understand — sort  of 
superior,  in  a  way — bookish,  and  a 
habit  of  thinking  things,  you  know. 
Well,  she's  cured  all  round — she's 
a  topper  now  of  any  bunch  in  the 
set — swell  and  stylish  and  lively! 
Oh,  the  crowd  will  fall  in  to  her  lead 

56 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

when  she  becomes  Mrs.  T.  Ripley. 
Now,  I  say.  Doctor  Prince,  you  and 
the — er — medium  gentleman  come 
and  take  supper  to-night  with  Mrs. 
and  Miss  Rankin  and  me.  Yd  be 
delighted  if  you  would,  now — I  would 
indeed — just  for  you  to  see,  you 
know,  the  improvement  in  Miss 
Rankin." 

It  transpired  that  Doctor  Prince 
and  Professor  Adami  accepted  Mr. 
Ashburton's  invitation.  They  con 
vened  at  the  hotel  in  the  rooms  of 
the  Rankins.  From  there  they  were 
to  proceed  to  the  restaurant  hon 
oured  by  Mr.  Ashburton's  patronage. 

When  Miss  Rankin  swept  grace 
fully  into  the  room  the  professional 
gentlemen  felt  fascination  and  sur 
prise  conflicting  in  their  feelings. 
She  was  radiant,  bewitching,  lively 
to  effervescence.  Her  mother  and 
Mr.  Ashburton  hung,  enraptured, 

57 


O.  HENRYANA 

upon  her  looks  and  words.  She  was 
most  becomingly  clothed  in  pale 
blue. 

"Oh,  bother!"  she  suddenly  ex 
claimed,  most  vivaciously,  "I  don't 
like  this  dress,  after  all.  You  must 
all  wait,"  she  commanded,  with  a 
captivating  fling  of  her  train,  "until 
I  change."  Half  an  hour  later  she 
returned,  magnificent  in  a  stunning 
costume  of  black  lace. 

"I'll  walk  with  you  downstairs, 
Professor  Adami,"  she  declared,  with 
a  charming  smile.  Half-way  down 
she  left  his  side  abruptly  and  joined 
Doctor  Prince.  "YouVe  been  such 
a  benefit  to  me,"  she  said.  "It's 
such  a  relief  to  get  rid  of  that  horrid 
feud  thing.  Heavens!  Ripley,  did 
you  forget  those  bonbons?  Oh,  this 
horrid  black  dress!  I  shouldn't  have 
worn  it;  it  makes  me  think  of  funerals. 
Did  you  get  the  scent  of  those  lilacs 

58 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

then?  It  makes  me  think  of  the 
Kentucky  mountains.  How  I  wish 
we  were  back  there." 

"Aren't  you  fond  of  New  York, 
then?"  asked  Doctor  Prince,  re 
garding  her  interestedly. 

She  started  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice  and  looked  up  vivaciously. 

"Indeed  I  am,"  she  said,  earnestly. 
"I  adore  New  York.  Why,  I  could 
n't  live  without  theatres  and  dances 
and  my  daily  drives  here.  Oh, 
Ripley,"  she  called,  over  her  shoul 
der,  "don't  get  that  bull  pup  I 
wanted;  I've  changed  my  mind.  I 
want  a  Pomeranian — now,  don't  for- 
get." 

They  arrived  on  the  pavement. 

"Oh,  a  carriage!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Rankin;  "I  don't  want  a  carriage,  I 
want  an  auto.  Send  it  away!" 

"All  right,"  said  Ashburton,  cheer 
ily,  "I  thought  you  said  a  carriage." 

59 


O.  HENRYANA 

In  obedience  to  orders  the  carriage 
rolled  away  and  an  open  auto  glided 
up  in  its  place. 

"Stuffy,  smelly  thing !"  cried  Miss 
Rankin,  with  a  winsome  pout. 
"We'll  walk.  Ripley,  you  and  Doctor 
Prince  look  out  for  mamma.  Come 
on,  Professor  Adami."  The  indul 
gent  victims  of  the  charming  beauty 
obeyed. 

"The  dear,  dear  child!"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Rankin,  happily,  to  Doctor 
Prince.  "How  full  of  spirits  and 
life  she  is  getting  to  be!  She's  so 
much  improved  from  her  old  self." 

"Lots,"  said  Ashburton,  proudly 
and  fatuously.  "She's  picked  up 
the  regular  metropolitan  gaits.  Chic 
and  swell  don't  begin  to  express  her. 
She's  cut  out  the  pensive  thought 
business.  Up-to-date.  Why  she 
changes  her  mind  every  two  minutes. 
That's  Annabel." 
60 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

At     the     fashionable     restaurant 
where  they  were  soon  seated.  Doctor 
Prince  found  his  curiosity  and  inter 
est  engaged  by  Miss  Rankin's  be 
haviour.     She  was  in  an  agreeably 
fascinating    humour.       Her   actions 
were  such  as  might  be  expected  from 
an    adored   child   whose   vacillating 
whims  were  indulged   by  groveling 
relatives.     She  ordered  article  after 
article  from  the  bill  of  fare,  petulantly 
countermanding    nearly    every    one 
when    they    were    set    before    her. 
Waiters  flew  and  returned,  collided, 
conciliated,  apologized,  and  danced 
at    her    bidding.     Her    speech    was 
quick  and  lively,  deliciously  incon 
sistent,  abounding  in  contradictions, 
conflicting  statements,  "bulls/'  dis 
crepancies  and  nonconformities.     In 
short,  she  seemed  to  have  acquired 
within  the  space  of  a  few  days  all 
that  inconsequent,  illogical  frothiness 
61 


O.  HENRYANA 

that  passes   current   among  certain 
circles  of  fashionable  life. 

Mr.  T.  Ripley  Ashburton  showed 
a  doting  appreciation  and  an  addled 
delight  at  the  new  charms  of  his 
fiancee — charms  that  he  at  once 
recognized  as  the  legal  tender  of  his 
set. 

Later,  when  the  party  had  broken 
up,  Doctor  Prince  and  Professor 
Adami  stood,  for  a  moment,  at  a 
corner,  where  their  ways  were  to 
diverge. 

"Well,"  said  the  professor,  who 
was  genially  softened  by  the  excel 
lent  supper  and  wine,  "this  time  our 
young  lady  seems  to  be  more  fortun 
ate.  The  malady  has  been  eradi 
cated  completely  from  her  entity. 
Yes,  sir,  in  good  time,  our  school 
will  be  recognized  by  all." 

Doctor     Prince     scrutinized     the 
handsome,    refined    countenance    of 
62 


A  PROFESSIONAL  SECRET 

the  hypnotist.  He  saw  nothing  there 
to  indicate  that  his  own  diagnosis  was 
even  guessed  at  by  that  gentleman. 

"As  you  say/'  he  made  answer, 
"she  appears  to  have  recovered,  as 
far  as  her  friends  can  judge." 

When  he  could  spare  the  time, 
Doctor  Prince  again  invaded  the 
sanctum  of  the  great  Grumbleton 
Myers,  and  together  they  absorbed 
the  poison  of  nicotine. 

"Yes,"  said  the  great  Myers,  when 
the  door  was  opened  and  Doctor 
Prince  began  to  ooze  out  with  the 
smoke,  "  I  think  you  have  come  to  the 
right  decision.  As  long  as  none  of 
the  persons  concerned  has  any  suspi 
cion  of  the  truth,  and  is  happy  in  the 
present  circumstances,  I  don't  think 
it  necessary  to  inform  him  that  the 
feuditis  Beallorum  et  Rankinorum— 
how's  the  Latin,  doctor? — has  only 
been  driven  to  Miss  Rankin's  brain." 

63 


THE 
ELUSIVE  TENDERLOIN 

THERE     is     no     Tenderloin. 
There      never      was.       That 
is,  none  that  you  could  run 
a  tape-line  around.     The  word  really 
implies  a  condition  or  a  quality- 
much  as  you  would  say  "reprehen- 
sibility"  or  "cold  feet." 

Metes  and  bounds  have  been  as 
signed  to  it.  I  know.  Realists  have 
prated  of  "from  Fourteenth  to  Forty- 
second/'  and  "as  far  west  as"  etc., 
but  the  larger  meaning  of  the  word 
remains  with  me. 

Confirmation  of  my  interpretation 
of  the  famous  slaughter-house  noun- 
adjective    came    to    me    from    Bill 
64 


THE  ELUSIVE  TENDERLOIN 

Jeremy,  a  friend  out  of  the  West. 
Bill  lives  in  a  town  on  the  edge  of 
the  prairie-dog  country.  At  times 
Bill  yearns  to  maintain  the  tradition 
that  "ginger  shall  be  hot  i'  the 
mouth/'  He  brought  his  last  yearn 
ing  to  New  York.  And  it  devolved 
upon  me.  You  know  what  that 
means. 

I  took  Bill  to  see  the  cavity  that 
has  been  drilled  in  the  city's  tooth, 
soon  to  be  filled  with  the  new  gold 
subway;  and  the  Eden  Musee,  and 
the  Flatiron  and  the  crack  in 
the  front  window-pane  of  Russell 
Sage's  house,  and  the  old  man 
that  threw  the  stone  that  did  it 
when  he  was  a  boy — and  I  asked 
Bill  what  he  thought  of  New 
York. 

"You  may  mean  well,"  said  Bill, 
with  gentle  reproach,  "but  you've 
got  in  a  groove.  You  thought  I 

65 


O.  HENRYANA 

was  underwear  buyer  for  the  Blue- 
Front  Dry  Goods  Emporium  of 
Pine  Knob,  N.  C.,  didn't  you?  Or 
the  junior  partner  of  Slowcoach 
&  Green,  of  Geegeewocomee,  State 
of  Goobers,  come  on  for  the  fall 
stock  of  jeans,  lingerie,  and  whet 
stones?  Don't  treat  me  like  a  busi 
ness  friend. 

"Do  you  suppose  the  wild,  insen 
sate  longing  I  feel  for  metropolitan 
gayety  is  going  to  be  satisfied  by 
waxworks  and  razor-back  architec 
ture?  Now  you  get  out  the  old 
envelope  with  the  itinerary  on  it, 
and  cross  out  the  Brooklyn  Bridge 
and  the  cab  that  Morgan  rides  home 
in  and  the  remaining  objects  of 
interest,  for  I  am  going  it  alone.  The 
Tenderloin,  well  done,  is  what  I  shall 
admire  for  to  see." 

Bill  Jeremy  has  a  way  of  doing  as 
he  says  he  will.  So  I  did  not  urge 
66 


THE  ELUSIVE  TENDERLOIN 

upon  him  the  bridge,  or  Carnegie 
Hall  or  the  great  Tomb — wonders 
that  the  unselfish  New  Yorker  re 
serves,  unseen,  for  his  friends. 

That  evening  Bill  descended,  un 
protected,  upon  the  Tenderloin.  The 
next  day  he  came  and  put  his  feet 
upon  my  desk  and  told  me  about 
it. 

"This  Tenderloin/'  said  he,  "is  a 
cross  between  a  fake  sideshow  and  a 
footrace.  It's  a  movable  feast — 
somethin'  like  Easter,  or  tryin'  to 
eat  spaghetti  with  chopsticks. 

"Last  night  I  put  all  my  money  but 
nine  dollars  under  a  corner  of  the 
carpet  and  started  out.  I  had  along 
a  bill-of-fare  of  this  here  Tenderloin; 
it  said  it  begins  at  Fourteenth  street 
and  runs  to  Forty-second,  with 
Fourth  avenue  and  Seventh  on  each 
side  of  it.  Well,  I  started  up  from 
Fourteenth  so  I  wouldn't  miss  any 

6? 


O.  HENRYANA 

of  it.  Lots  of  people  was  travellin' 
on  the  streets  in  a  hurry.  Thinks  I, 
the  Tenderloin's  sizzlin'  to-night;  if 
I  don't  hurry  I  won't  get  a  seat  at 
the  performance. 

"Most  of  the  crowd  seemed  to  be 
goin'  up  and  I  went  up.  And  then 
they  seemed  to  be  goin'  down,  and 
I  went  down.  I  asks  a  man  in  a 
light  overcoat  with  a  blue  jaw  leanin' 
against  a  lamppost  where  was  this 
Tenderloin. 

"Up  that  way/  he  says,  wavin' 
his  finger-ring. 

"How'll  I  know  it  when  I  get  to 
it?'  I  asks. 

:tYah!'  says  he,  like  he  was  sick. 
'  Easy !  Youse'll  see  a  flax-headed  cull 
stakin'  a  doll  in  a  98-cent  shirtwaist 
to  a  cheese  sandwich  and  sarsaparilla, 
and  five  Salvation  Army  corporals 
waitin'  round  for  de  change.  Dere'll 
be  a  phonograph  playin'  and  nine 
68 


THE  ELUSIVE  TENDERLOIN 

cops  gettin'  ready  to  raid  de  joint. 
Dat'll  be  it/ 

"I  asked  that  fellow  where  I  was 
then. 

cccTwo  blocks  from  de  Pump/  says 
he. 

"I  goes  on  uptown,  and  seein' 
nothin'  particular  in  the  line  of  sinful 
delight,  I  strikes  'crosstown  to  an 
other  avenue.  That  was  Sixth,  I 
reckon.  People  was  still  walkin'  up 
and  down,  puttin'  first  one  foot  in 
front  and  then  the  other  in  the  irre 
ligious  and  wicked  manner  that  I 
suppose  has  given  the  Tenderloin  its 
frivolous  reputation.  Street  cars  was 
runnin*  past,  most  impious  and  unre- 
generate;  and  the  profligate  Dagoes 
was  splittin'  chestnuts  to  roast  with 
a  wild  abandon  that  reminded  me 
considerably  of  doings  in  Paris, 
France.  The  dissipated  bootblacks 
was  sleepin'  in  their  chairs,  and  the 


O.  HENRYANA 

roast  peanut  whistles  sounded  gay 
and  devilish  among  the  mad  throng 
that  leaned  ag'inst  the  awnin'  posts. 

"A  fellow  with  a  high  hat  and 
brass  buttons  gets  down  off  the 
top  of  his  covered  sulky,  and  says 
to  me,  'Keb,  sir?' 

"'Whereabouts  is  this  Tenderloin, 
Colonel?'  I  asks. 

"' You're  right  in  the  centre  of  it, 
boss/  says  he.  'You  are  standin' 
right  now  on  the  wickedest  corner 
in  New  York.  Not  ten  feet  from 
here  a  push-cart  man  had  his  pocket 
picked  last  night;  and  if  you're 
here  for  a  week  I  can  show  you  at 
least  two  moonlight  trolley  parties 
go  by  on  the  New  Amsterdam  line.' 

" 'Look  here/  says  I, ' I'm  out  for  a 
razoo.  I've  got  nine  iron  medallions 
of  Liberty  wearin'  holes  in  my  pocket 
linin'.  I  want  to  split  this  Tender 
loin  in  two  if  there's  anything  in  it. 
70 


THE  ELUSIVE  TENDERLOIN 

Now  put  me  on  to  something  that's 
real  degraded  and  boisterous  and 
sizzling  with  cultured  and  uproarious 
sin.  Something  in  the  way  of  met 
ropolitan  vice  that  I  can  be  proud 
of  when  I  go  back  home.  Ain't 
you  got  any  civic  pride  about  you?' 

"'This  sulky  driver  scratched  the 
heel  of  his  chin. 

"'Just  now,  boss/  says  he,  'every 
thing's  layin'  low.  There's  a  tip  out 
that  Jerome's  cigarettes  ain't  agreein' 
with  him.  If  it  was  any  other  time 
—say/  says  he,  like  an  idea  struck 
him,  'how'd  you  like  to  take  in  the 
all-night  restaurants?  Lots  of  elec 
tric  lights,  boss,  and  people  and  fun. 
Sometimes  they  laugh  right  out  loud. 
Out-of-town  visitors  mostly  visit  our 
restaurants.' 

"cGet  away/  says  I,  'I'm  beginnin' 
to  think  your  old  Tenderloin  is  noth- 
in'  but  the  butcher's  article.  A  little 

71 


O.  HENRYANA 

spice  and  infamy  and  audible  riot 
is  what  I  am  after.  If  you  can't 
furnish  it  go  back  and  climb  on  your 
demi-barouche.  We  have  restaur 
ants  out  West/  I  tells  him,  'where 
we  eat  grub  attended  by  artificial 
light  and  laughter.  Where  is  the 
boasted  badness  of  your  unjustly 
vituperated  city?' 

"The  fellow  rubs  his  chin  again. 
'  Deed  if  I  know,  boss/  says  he,  cright 
now.  You  see  Jerome' — and  then 
he  buds  out  with  another  idea.  'Tell 
you  what/  says  he,  'be  the  very 
thing!  You  jump  in  my  keb  and  I'll 
drive  you  over  to  Brooklyn.  My 
aunt's  giving  a  euchre  party  to-night/ 
says  he,  'because  Miles  O'Reilly 
is  busy,  watchin'  the  natatorium — 
somebody  tipped  him  off  it  was  a 
pool-room.  Can  you  play  euchre? 
The  keb'll  be  $3.50  an  hour.  Jump 
right  in,  boss.' 

72 


THE  ELUSIVE  TENDERLOIN 

"That  was  the  best  I  could  do  on 
the  wickedest  corner  in  New  York. 
So  I  walks  over  where  it's  more  right 
eous,  hopin'  there  might  be  somethin' 
doin'  among  the  Pharisees.  Every 
thing,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  was  as 
free  from  guile  as  a  hammock  at  a 
Chautauqua  picnic.  The  people  just 
walked  up  and  down,  speakin'  of 
chrysanthemum  shows  and  oratorios, 
and  enjoyin'  the  misbegotten  repu 
tation  of  bein'  the  wickedest  rakes 
on  the  continent." 

"It's  too  bad,  Bill."  I  said,  "that 
you  were  disappointed  in  the  Tender 
loin.  Didn't  you  have  a  chance  to 
spend  any  of  your  money?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Bill.  "I  managed 
to  drop  one  dollar  over  on  the  edge 
of  the  sinful  district.  I  was  goin' 
along  down  a  boulevard  when  I  hears 
an  awful  hollerin'  and  fussin'  that 
sounded  good — it  reminded  me  of  a 

73 


O.  HENRYANA 

real  enjoyable  rough-house  out  West. 
Some  fellow  was  quarrelin'  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  usin'  cuss  words,  and 
callin'  down  all  kinds  of  damnation 
about  somethin'. 

"The  sounds  come  out  through  a 
big  door  in  a  high  buildin'  and  I  went 
in  to  see  the  fun.  Thinks  I,  I'll  get 
a  small  slice  of  this  here  Tenderloin 
anyhow.  Well,  I  went  in,  and  that's 
where  I  dropped  the  dollar.  They 
came  around  and  collected  it." 

"What  was  inside,  Bill?"  I  asked. 

"A  fellow  told  me,  when  we  come 
out,"  said  Bill,  "it  was  a  church,  and 
one  of  these  preachers  that  mixes 
up  in  politics  was  denouncin'  the  evils 
of  the  Tenderloin." 


74 


THE    STRUGGLE    OF 
THE    OUTLIERS 

ArAIN,  to-day,  at  a  certain 
street,  on  the  ragged  boun 
daries  of  the  city,  Lawrence 
Holcombe  stopped  the  trolley  car 
and  got  off.  Holcombe  was  a  hand 
some,  prosperous  business  man  of 
forty;  a  man  of  high  social  standing 
and  connections.  His  comfortable 
suburban  residence  was  some  five 
miles  farther  out  on  the  car  line 
from  the  street  where  so  often  of  late 
he  had  dropped  off  the  outgoing  car. 
The  conductor  winked  at  a  regular 
passenger,  and  nodded  his  head 
archly  in  the  direction  of  Holcombe's 
hurrying  figure. 

75 


O.  HENRYANA 

"Getting  to  be  a  regular  thing/7 
commented  the  conductor. 

Holcombe  picked  his  way  gingerly 
down  a  roughly  graded  side  street 
infested  with  ragged  urchins  and 
impeded  by  abandoned  tinware.  He 
stopped  at  a  small  cottage  fenced 
in  with  a  patch  of  stony  ground 
with  a  few  stunted  shade-trees  grow 
ing  about  it.  A  stout,  middle-aged 
woman  was  washing  clothes  in  a 
tub  at  one  side  of  the  door.  She 
looked  around,  and  smiled  a  smile 
of  fat  recognition. 

"  Good  avening,  Mr.  Holcombe,  is 
it  yerself  ag'in?  Ye'll  find  Katie 
inside,  sir." 

"Did  you  speak  to  her  for  me?" 
asked  Holcombe,  in  a  low  voice; 
"did  you  try  to  help  me  gain  her  con 
sent  as  you  promised  to  do?" 

"Sure,  and  I  did  that.  But,  sir, 
ye  know  gyurls  will  be  gyurls.  The 

76 


STRUGGLE  OF  OUTLIERS 

more  ye  coax  'em  the  wilfuller  they 
gets.  'Tis  yer  own  pleadin'  that'll 
get  her  if  anything  will.  An'  I 
hopes  ye  may,  for  I  tells  her  she'll 
never  get  a  betther  offer  than  yours, 
sir.  'Tis  a  good  girl  she  is,  and  a  tidy 
hand  for  anything  from  the  kitchen 
to  the  parlour,  and  she's  never  a 
fault  except,  maybe,  a  bit  too  much 
likin'  for  dances  and  ruffles  and  rib 
bons,  but  that's  natural  to  her  age 
and  good  looks  if  I  do  say  it  meself, 
bein'  her  mither,  Mr.  Holcombe. 
Ye  can  spake  ag'in  to  Katie,  sir,  and 
maybe  this  time  ye'll  have  luck  unless 
Danny  Conlan,  the  wild  gossoon, 
has  been  at  it  ag'in  overpersuadin' 
her  ag'inst  ye." 

Holcombe  turned  slightly  pale,  and 
his  lips  closed  tightly  for  a  moment. 

"I've  heard  of  this  fellow  Conlan 
before.        Why   does    he    interfere? 
Why  does  he  stand  in  the  way?     Is 
77 


O.  HENRYANA 

there  anything  between  him  and 
Katie?  Does  Katie  care  for  him?" 

Mrs.  Flynn  gave  a  sigh,  like  a  puff 
of  a  locomotive,  and  a  flap  upon  the 
washboard  with  a  sodden  garment 
that  sent  Holcombe,  well  splashed, 
six  feet  away. 

"Ask  me  no  questions  about  what's 
in  a  gyurl's  heart  and  I'll  tell  ye  no 
lies.  Her  own  mither  can't  tell  any 
more  than  yerself,  Mr.  Holcombe." 

Holcombe  stepped  inside  the  cot 
tage.  Katie  Flynn,  with  rolled-up 
sleeves,  was  ironing  a  dress  of 
flounced  muslin.  Criticism  of  Hoi- 
combe's  deviation  from  his  own  sphere 
to  this  star  of  lower  orbit  must  have 
waned  at  the  sight  of  the  girl.  Her 
beauty  was  of  the  most  solvent  and 
convincing  sort.  Dusky  Irish  eyes, 
one  great  braid  of  jetty,  shining  hair, 
a  crimson  mouth,  dimpling  and  shap 
ing  itself  to  every  mood  of  its  owner, 

78 


STRUGGLE  OF  OUTLIERS 

a  figure  strong  and  graceful,  seem 
ingly  full  of  imperishable  life  and 
action — Katie  Flynn  was  one  to  be 
sought  after  and  striven  for. 

Holcombe  went  and  stood  by  her 
side  as  she  ironed,  and  watched  the 
lithe  play  of  muscles  rolling  beneath 
the  satiny  skin  of  her  rounded  fore 
arms. 

"Katie,"  he  said,  his  voice  con 
cealing  a  certain  anxiety  beneath  a 
wooing  tenderness,  "I  have  come 
for  my  answer.  It  isn't  necessary 
to  repeat  what  we  have  talked  over 
so  often,  but  you  know  how  anxious 
I  am  to  have  you.  You  know  my 
circumstances  and  position,  and  that 
you  will  have  every  comfort  and 
every  privilege  that  you  could  ask 
for.  Say  'Yes/  Katie,  and  I'll  be 
the  luckiest  man  in  this  town  to-day." 

Kate  set  her  iron  down  with  a 
metallic  click,  and  leaned  her  elbows 

79 


O.  HENRYANA 

upon  the  ironing  board.  Her  great 
blue-black  eyes  went,  in  their  Irish 
way,  from  sparkling  fun  to  thought 
ful  melancholy. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Holcombe,  I  don't  know 
what  to  say.  I  know  you'd  be  kind 
to  me,  and  give  me  the  best  home 
I  could  ever  expect.  I'd  like  to  say 
'yes* — indeed  I  would.  I'd  about 
decided  to  tell  you  so,  but  there's 
Danny — he  objects  so." 

Danny  again!  Holcombe  strode 
up  and  down  the  room  impatiently 
frowning. 

"Who  is  this  fellow  Conlan, 
Katie?"  he  asked.  "Every  time  I 
nearly  get  your  consent  he  comes  be 
tween  us.  Does  he  want  you  to  live 
always  in  this  cottage  for  the  conven 
ience  of  his  mightiness?  Why  do 
you  listen  to  him?" 

"He  wants  me,"  said  Katie,  in  the 
voice  of  a  small,  spoiled  child. 
80 


STRUGGLE  OF  OUTLIERS 

"Well,  I  want  you  too/'  said 
Holcombe,  masterfully.  "  If  I  could 
see  this  wonderful  Mr.  Conlan,  of 
the  persuasive  tongue,  I'd  argue 
the  matter  with  him." 

"He's  been  the  champion  middle 
weight  fighter  of  this  town,"  said 
Katie,  a  bit  mischievously. 

"Oh,  has  he!  Well,  that  doesn't 
frighten  me,  Katie.  In  fact,  I  am 
not  sure  but  what  I'd  tackle  him 
a  few  rounds  myself,  with  you  for 
the  prize;  although  I'm  somewhat 
rusty  with  the  gloves." 

"Whist!  there  he  comes  now," 
exclaimed  Katie,  her  eyes  widening 
a  little  with  apprehension. 

Holcombe  looked  out  the  door 
and  saw  a  young  man  coming  up 
from  the  gate.  He  walked  with  an 
easy  swagger.  His  face  was  smooth 
and  truculent,  but  not  bad.  He  wore 
a  cap  pulled  down  to  one  eye.  He 
81 


O.  HENRYANA 

walked  inside  the  house  and  stopped 
at  the  door  of  the  room  in  which  stood 
his  rival  and  the  bone  of  contention. 

"You're  after  my  girl  again,  are 
you?"  be  grumbled,  huskily  and 
ominously.  "I  don't  like  it,  do  you 
see?  I've  told  her  so,  and  I  tell 
you  so.  She  stays  here.  For  ten 
cents  I'd  knock  your  block  off.  Do 
you  see?" 

"Now  Mr.  Conlan,"  began  Hoi- 
combe,  striving  to  avoid  the  argu- 
mentum  ad  hominem,  "listen  to  rea 
son.  It  is  only  fair  to  let  Katie 
choose  for  herself.  Is  it  quite  the 
square  thing  to  try  to  prevent  her 
from  doing  what  she  prefers  to  do? 
If  it  had  not  been  for  your  inter 
ference  I  would  have  had  her  long 
ago." 

"For    five    cents,"    pursued    the 
unmoved  Mr.  Conlan,  lowering  his 
terms,  "I'd  knock  your  block  off." 
82 


STRUGGLE  OF  OUTLIERS 

Into  Holcombe's  eye  there  came 
the  light  of  desperate  resolve.  He 
saw  but  one  way  to  clear  the  obstacle 
from  his  path. 

"I  am  told,"  he  said  quietly  and 
firmly,  "that  you  are  a  fighter. 
Your  mind  seems  to  dwell  upon  phy 
sical  combat  as  the  solution  to  all 
questions.  Now,  Conlan,  I'm  no 
scrapper,  but  I'll  fight  you  to  a  finish 
any  time  within  the  next  three  minutes 
to  see  who  gets  the  girl.  If  I  win 
she  goes  with  me.  If  you  win  you 
have  your  way,  and  I'll  not  trouble 
her  again.  Are  you  game?" 

Danny  Conlan's  hard,  blue  eyes 
looked  a  sudden  admiration. 

'  You're  all  right,"  he  conceded 
with  gruff  candour.  "I  didn't  think 
you  was  that  sort.  You're  all  right. 
It's  a  dead  fair  sporting  prop.,  and 
I'm  your  company.  I'll  stand  by 
the  results  according  to  terms.  Come 

83 


O.  HENRYANA 

on,  and  I'll  show  you  where  it  can 
be  pulled  off.     You're  all  right." 

Katie  tried  to  interfere,  but  Danny 
silenced  her.  He  led  Holcombe  down 
the  hill  to  a  deep  gully  that  sheltered 
them  from  view.  Night  was  just 
closing  in  upon  the  twilight.  They 
laid  aside  their  coats  and  hats.  Here 
was  a  situation  in  the  methodical 
existence  of  Lawrence  Holcombe, 
real  estate  and  bond  broker,  repre 
sentative  business  man  of  unques 
tionable  habits  and  social  position! 
Fighting  with  a  professional  tough 
in  a  gully  in  a  squalid  settlement  for 
the  daughter  of  an  Irish  washer 
woman  ! 

The  combat  was  a  short  one.  If 
it  had  lasted  longer,  Holcombe  would 
have  lost,  for  both  his  wind  and  his 
science  had  deteriorated  from  long 
lack  of  training.  Therefore,  he  forced 
the  fighting  from  the  start.  It  is 
84 


STRUGGLE  OF  OUTLIERS 

difficult  to  say  to  what  he  owed  his 
victory  over  the  once  champion 
middleweight.  One  thing  in  his 
favour  was  that  Mr.  Conlan's  nerve 
and  judgment  had  been  somewhat 
shattered  by  the  effects  of  a  recent 
spree.  Another  must  have  been  that 
Holcombe  was  stimulated  to  supreme 
exertion  by  an  absorbing  incentive 
to  win — a  prompting  more  power 
ful  than  the  instinct  of  the  gladiator, 
deeper  than  all  the  motives  of  gallan 
try,  and  more  important  than  the 
vital  influence  of  love  itself.  A  third 
fortuitous  adjunct  was,  without 
doubt,  a  chance  blow  upon  the  pro 
jecting  chin  of  the  middleweight, 
under  which  that  warrior  sank  to 
the  gully's  grime  and  remained  in 
capable,  while  Holcombe  stood  above 
him  and  leisurely  counted  him  out. 

Danny    got    shakily    to    his    feet, 
and  proved  to  be  a  true  sport. 

85 


O.  HENRYANA 

"You're  all  right,"  he  said.  "But 
if  we'd  had  it  by  rounds  'twould 
have  ended  different.  The  girl  goes 
with  you,  do  you  see?  I'm  on  the 
square." 

They  climbed  back  to  the  cottage. 

"It's  settled,"  announced  Hoi- 
combe.  "Mr.  Conlan  removes  his 
objections." 

"That's  straight,"  said  Danny. 
"He's  all  right." 

Holcombe  had  only  a  scratched 
and  slightly  reddened  chin  from  a 
vicious,  glancing  uppercut  from 
Danny's  left.  Danny  showed  pun 
ishment.  One  eye  was  nearly  closed. 
His  lip  was  bleeding. 

Katie  was  a  true  woman.  Such 
do  not  at  once  crown  the  victor  in 
the  tourney  for  their  favour.  Pity 
comes  first.  The  victor  must  wait 
for  his  own.  It  will  come  to  him. 
She  flew  to  the  vanquished  champion 
86 


STRUGGLE  OF  OUTLIERS 

and  comforted  him,  ministering  to 
his  bruises.  Holcombe  stood,  serene 
and  smiling,  without  jealousy. 

"To-morrow,"  he  said  to  Katie, 
with  head  erect  and  beaming  eyes. 

"  To-morrow,  if  you  like,"  an 
swered  Katie. 

Holcombe  minced  his  precarious 
way  up  the  ragged  hill  among  the 
obsolete  tinware.  His  car  came  along 
a-glitter  with  electric  lights  and  jam 
med  with  passengers.  He  jumped 
to  the  rear  platform  and  stood  there. 
At  his  side  he  found  Weatherly,  a 
friend  and  neighbour,  who  had  also 
built  a  house  in  the  suburbs,  a  few 
squares  from  his  own. 

"Hello,  Holcombe,"  yelled  Weath- 
erly,  above  the  crash  of  the  car. 
"Been  looking  over  some  real  estate, 
out  here?  How're  Mrs.  Holcombe 
and  the  young  H's?" 


O.  HENRYANA 

"First  rate,"  shouted  Holcombe, 
"when  I  left  home  this  morning. 
How's  the  family  with  you?" 

"Only  so-so.  Usual  suburban 
troubles.  Servants  won't  stay  so 
far  out;  tradesmen  object  to  deliver 
ing  goods  in  the  country;  cars  break 
down,  etc.  What's  pleasing  you  so? 
Made  a  lucky  deal  to-day?" 

Holcombe's  face  wore  an  ecstatic 
look.  He  was  fingering  a  little 
scratch  on  his  chin  with  one  hand. 
He  leaned  his  head  towards  Weath- 
erly's  ear. 

"Say,  Bob,  do  you  remember  that 
Irish  girl,  Katie  Flynn,  that  was 
with  the  Spaffords  so  long  a  time?" 

"I've  heard  of  her,"  said  Weath- 
erly.  "They  say  she  stayed  a  year 
with  them  without  a  single  day  off. 
But  I  don't  believe  any  fairy  story 
like  that." 

"Twas  a  fact.     Well,  I  engaged 


STRUGGLE  OF  OUTLIERS 

her  to-day  for  a  cook.     She's  going 
out  to  the  house  to-morrow." 

"Confound  you  for  a  lucky  dog," 
shouted  Weatherly,  with  envy  in  his 
tones  and  his  heart,  "and  you  live 
four  blocks  further  out  than  we  do!" 


THE    END 


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